Chapter 2

Let’s say Youngjae has roughly 80 000 thoughts a day, which made it about 10 000 more than the most conflicted average thinker and one thought every 1, 08 seconds. His calculator told him that and he doubted it would ever lie to him. However, it didn’t tell him anything of it being too much or too little. What a shame, really.

Out of 80 000 there were about 15 he was certain of, roughly 200 that changed for each day and the rest, the remaining were the ones he was aware of but couldn’t fully grasp. For each day, from the moment his eyes opened to greet the morning light until the second they would give in to exhaustion at night, he would know they were there. To put what they were into words was a to task he couldn’t fulfill, but they were there... and they haunted him like abstract little monsters hiding under his bed. He might find momentary calm in the comfort of various distractions, but since he couldn’t forget, the distractions would fade along with the hours and he would still be haunted by the small creatures that lurked in the dark.

They never showed, but he knew they were there. He just knew.

And throughout the night he would await them, until his eyes finally gave in.

‘Monsters are bad.’

Everyone had their own monsters. Some of them were of the same kind, the same species while some were eccentric and rare, perhaps even unique. With every single person being handcuffed to their own bundle of evil there was nothing that could be done other than to learn how to get by the nightmares.

Youngjae knew that as well.

Perfect monsters tore people down bit by bit from the inside. They were clever beings that could stay hidden in every corner of your day, on the pages of the magazine, on your desk, in the screen of your television and laced with the spiteful remarks from the ones who lived floors above you. And then in despair, with a mind clouded with tears you’d seek a way to live with them, even if it meant sliding down a downward spiral. They’d tell you to become a little bit more perfect and you’d tell them yes.

There are also monsters who fed on fear, especially the fear of not being good enough. Those aimed at the spine, an expert kick would bend it, the lack of acknowledgement would make your eyes bleed and a hush silenced you forever.

‘Monsters are ugly.’

Youngjae’s thoroughly drained him. He couldn’t tell of exactly what, but he was sure whatever he had, whatever left of it was gradually leaving him. Someday, any day now his surroundings would surely fall apart. Yes, ripped to pieces, beyond repair. But then again, had his life ever been as meaningful as people made it out to be in first place?

Should he feel any remorse for its downfall?

It simply lived by a chain of routines, disorderly following the patterns painted by generations before his. How it was then, so was it going to be now.

 The dazzling prosperity, where was it now or was it only him that couldn’t see it?

In any case, he was safe.

As long as he did what he was told and as long as his vision stayed monochromatic he would be saved from the fall. However, that didn’t stop him from being afraid and he was still left to fidget under invisible eyes...

Do you know the color of hope?

‘Me neither.’

***

It was a wonder how complicated a thing such as to be him on a daily basis could potentially blow up in everyone’s faces. Despite his constant tries, there was always something he’d managed to overlook, something he’d done wrong. A few times, he wasn’t grateful enough, at others he was too cynical, mostly though they just thought he should show more enthusiasm in everything he did.  It made people happy; he realized, to drown in the pretension of him actually caring. Disappointment was a big thing, especially when his mistakes came into view. And he couldn’t really blame them; after all, with expectations set and defined, disappointment was only a natural reaction when those requirements failed to be met. But Youngjae wouldn’t put all the blame on himself either. With so many things he was supposed to be, a thing or two were bound to slide off his consciousness. Naturally. It couldn’t be helped.

People are rather forgetful; yes they tend to be that a lot. Sometimes, they forgot he was human or maybe they just momentarily confused him with some superman they were so sure existed but he hadn’t had the honor to meet yet. No, Youngjae was positive there was no such thing as a superman, or woman for that matter. Yet, he didn’t really have the heart to break it to hopeful eyes surrounding him. What if it was all they lived for? What if the belief of its existence was what they all hung on to?

And who was he to break it?

The quality of forgetfulness and the ability to construct even the most irrational imaginaries were so incredibly humane that he just couldn’t fault anyone for anything.

They were mere humans... and so was he.

He just never forgot about it.

***

It took Youngjae 17 minutes and 23 seconds to get from his home to the entrance of his school and of course just as long on the way back. However, it only takes roughly 15 minutes if he took the shortcut through the alley. He counted it. Yes, he counted 1 to 60 seventeen times plus the 23. It served as a distraction. And distracted him it did. During those 17 minutes his mind would successfully be somewhere else other than on the familiar corners, roads and most importantly the signs. He never liked the signs adorning the city of Seoul, the ones lit up by lights of all kinds.

Sparkle they did, with the purpose to grab your attention and Youngjae could bet they managed to do that as well. What bothered him was how they all shone so differently, the signs he meant. They were never the same and due to that... breathing seemed to become so much heavier.

“Are you okay?” It came so sudden; out of nowhere it cut through his train of thoughts and made him jump on his two feet.

His head cleared efficiently before he turned to face the intruder. The sight of Jung Daehyun, in an identical checked school uniform and his hands gripping tightly at the straps of his backpack wasn’t too surprising if he was to be honest. On the other hand, it was rather expected, thus Youngjae knew he wasn’t far from frowning.

“Go away.” He shooed the other tiredly. “I don’t really feel like dealing with you right now.” Since, last week, his browser history has been looking more or less like: ‘how to get rid of stalkers – search on google’ and to no avail unfortunately. Maybe it had everything to do with Jung Daehyun not being a, you know, general stalker, one whose moves were predictable any victim would feel like weeping. No, this young fellow was far more unpredictable and showed up during the most unlikely times. Precisely just like how he did now.

But Daehyun seemed unfazed. Like always.

Maybe he had seen through it too, caught on to the way Youngjae’s remark had grown half-hearted and figured that he was on the right track to whatever he was trying to achieve. “You do know that you are zoning in the middle of the sidewalk right?” the older tilted his head to the side, and he did that a lot Youngjae thought, when he was confused. “Why?”

Youngjae sighed heavily and cast his classmate a bored look. “Why indeed.” He shoved his hand in the pockets and lazily strode past the ‘why man’ and made sure to bump into his shoulder in the process. Just for the sake of it.

Another sigh broke through his lips when he noted the hurried footsteps following his trail, that and the soft clanks of notebooks fighting to rotate in the backpack on the brunette’s back. “Where are you going?” He panted, breathing harder than anyone else did on the street. “Hey, wait for me.” The other breathed heavily and latched onto Youngjae’s arm, bringing him to a halt. “S-seriously — what’s with the Olympics walk?” His hand had a firm grip round Youngjae’s arm, while the other was placed over his chest, rubbing it as if too sooth whatever turmoil that had occurred underneath.

Something detectable started to scratch the wall down the pit of Youngjae’s stomach, and he suddenly found himself mentally willing the older boy before him to stop.

He could have freed himself and continue his rush home.

But he stayed.

Almost frozen and for some ty reason beyond him, his eyes were trained on the gentle motions Daehyun was doing to calm his pulse. And then it snapped. Every time, when it got to the point too many why’s circled in his head why this and why that, he had a tendency to fall limp, like an overheated machine he’d temporary shutdown in order to protect himself.

‘Jung Daehyun, why are you like this? Like this to me…’

It took a long while, a light-year or half almost before the other looked up, grinning widely. “I’m okay.”

Youngjae composed himself and pulled his arm out of the Daehyun’s softening hold. He felt safe enough as he tried to swallow the lump in his throat that refused to go down. “I never asked.”

 “I know. But you looked worried.”

‘I did?’

He really did?

Where would that have come from? When? And how could it have possibly reached him when he was covered in all angles?

Youngjae adjusted the school bag on the shoulders and sported a look which he hoped conveyed and air of indifference. “I’m going home. Stop following me, or I might slam the door in your face.”

He walked slower this time.

But that was just because things had turned too dramatic for his liking. Sure it was only a moment, but a moment could be one moment too many.

He swallowed thickly at the thought.

“That’s just rude.” Daehyun mumbled and fell into Youngjae’s steps. “Hey Youngjae, the ahjumma who has the hoddeok vendor by our school always tells me what a charming young man I am.” He rushed his steps to walk a few step ahead and then twirled around right in front of Youngjae, he grinned satisfyingly when the younger flinched back due to almost walking in on him. “You should totally try to see it too. You’d be surprised how amazing I’m at —“

While looking at the overly content person before him, Youngjae couldn’t help but to suddenly ask: “Why do you like me?”

“Huh?” Daehyun’s eyes grew larger as he inched forward, wondering if he heard the question correctly. “I like you because you’re cute.”

The forward answer made Youngjae scrunch his face, because whatever he had expected, it surely wasn’t that.  Somehow, despite finding the other irritable he had thought that the reason would’ve been more… Daehyun-like, whatever that was and less shallow.

That he had some likable point beside the ones that didn’t really count.

“No one ever told you you’re not supposed to like someone because of their face?” he retorted, harsher than he intended. But he chose to ignore it. “You like someone based on how they are on the inside.”

Lines instantly formed between Daehyun’s eyebrows in confusion. “But I don’t know you that well yet?”

Youngjae scoffed.

‘Of course.’

The younger male crossed his arms over his chest, and glared at other. “Great, so you don’t really like me but just decided to stalk me because you have some twisted fixation on my face. This just got 100 times stupider than it originally was so I’d appreciate if you stopped this nonsense like, right now.”

“Why can’t I like someone based on their looks? Am I supposed to dislike everyone I don’t know?” Daehyun looked at Youngjae expectantly. “Should I hate them?”

“What? No,” He was baffled. “That’s not what I said.”

“Yes, you did.” Daehyun took small tentative steps closer to where Youngjae stood and made sure their eyes stayed connected. “You said I can’t like people based on their looks. If I can’t like then I dislike them. And to dislike someone because of their appearances is just plain stupid.”

Thoughts swirled in Youngjae’s mind. Somewhere, in the depths of his mind, he knew that he should withdraw; it has been proven that Daehyun’s mind worked far too differently from his. But at the same time, there was something that prevented him from just walking away.

“You can be neutral.” He said a matter-of-factly. “Neither one nor the other. Just stay neutral.”

Daehyun held his eyes for a long time, so long Youngjae squirmed at the thought of what he saw in them. In the end the younger had no choice but to avert his gaze. And once again, he found himself immensely bothered. As if they touched a topic they shouldn’t.

Youngjae didn’t like it; he didn’t like it at all.

He was used to being safe.

“But that’s just sad.”

The smile given to him was soft, too soft and tender for Youngjae’s liking. Because he knew, he just knew that if he got a little bit closer he would be able to see something he would like to erase immediately and never see on anyone’s features again…

… something like sympathy might give him a reason to hate his box.

And he didn’t want to.

‘But that’s just sad.’

It existed for him, because of him.

The truth had the color hardest and most painful to watch.

‘So cover your eyes and pretend it’s not there.’

“It’s the easiest way to live.”

Daehyun smiled never faltered as he looked at Youngjae knowingly. “Just because it’s easy doesn’t mean that is the one that will make you happy.”

It took Youngjae 17 minutes to walk home hence he had 1020 seconds of distractions. During those 1020 shifts by the hand of the clock Jung Daehyun would appear and just to mock his seconds the guy would serve as a major distraction…

one he’d never get used too.

***

Youngjae had been thinking that once Jung Daehyun saw how apparent their differences were he would automatically cease the, for the lack of a better word, courtship.

But he was wrong.

And quite miserably so.

Out of 80 000 thoughts a day, there were still 15 he was certain of, still 200 to be determined and let’s say 1000 about the dark brown eyed classmate. Yes, 1000 and still increasing as the days passed.

That’s what changed.

It was truly frightening how the little monsters were slowly morphing into something more concrete, accessible and perhaps easier to comprehend.

No, wait.

There was nothing about Jung Daehyun that was simple enough for Youngjae to grasp. To accept or to shove away, he wished it was easier to determine. But Daehyun stuck out like a sore thumb in his own map over life. He had this small template, one drawn in his head over the years of observation and the same one the older boy refused to fit into.

When he sat by his school desk and looked out of the window he had always expected to see a greyscale, one which gradually went from white to black and to be fair had also been the image printed before him. But someone must have decided it needed something more. You know that little unexplainable extra for some flare to an otherwise plain view. Therefore, when colorful orbs appeared in the midst of it all, he couldn’t help but be drawn to them.

Youngjae hated to admit it, but since their eyes met there has been something… something incredibly fascinating in the reflection of his compressed vision.

It stood out and belonged there at the same time.

‘1001…1022… 1056… 1082...’

It must be unhealthy, how much he thought of someone he shouldn’t be thinking about.

And then before he knew it, he was starting to in his opinion notice too many things about the other. From something as small as the mole under his left eye to the way his arms flung when he walked.

‘Ridiculous.’

Completely out of mind.

The long awaited lunch break arrived with the endless chatter in toe. Chairs and tables scraped nosily against the floor to form temporary dining tables for three or four. It amazed Youngjae how his classmates always seemed to have something to talk about, no matter day, hour or minute. How much could actually happen in the span of 12 hours, going from one day to the next to have one to constantly have tales to tell? How much excitement was there for them to always want to spill every detail about themselves? But at this tender age perhaps it was understandable.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could tell a familiar figure approaching him where he sat, dreaming, thinking or whatsoever. “Hey Youngjae—“

“No.” Despite the rather rude interruption Youngjae couldn’t help throw a subtle glance at the months older boy.

“Not fair, you didn’t even let me finish.” Daehyun pouted and then turned to swiftly grab a random chair to get seated by the short end of Youngjae desk.

“So?” Youngjae shifted on his seat, subtly moving inches away from his companion. “It’s not like the answer will change.”

The older boy leant forward and folded his arms over the smooth surface of painted wood. “But then you won’t know what you’re missing out on.” He grinned cheekily and looked up at Youngjae through the stands of his bangs.

“I think I’m fine, thanks.” Youngjae drawled and tried with visible efforts avoid the other’s intense yet warm gaze.

Daehyun chuckled softly before he brought forward a three store pretty lunchbox. “Let’s eat!” His gaze was excited, shining with a glint too sparkly for something as trivial as having a meal. “Where’s yours?” he asked when Youngjae remained motionless.

“I said no, didn’t I?” the younger of the two frowned. “Why are you here?”

“Aish—” Daehyun cluck his tongue disapprovingly. “Can’t you for a moment just go with things? Flow with the stream, you know. I’m here because I want to eat with you. Why can’t I?” the grave tone with a hunch of challenge made Youngjae unable to say something back. Instead, he could only stare with wide eyes, bemused before heaving a sigh in defeat. And almost immediately, the smile resurfaced on Daehyun’s face. “Good.”

If Youngjae hadn’t witnessed it with his own eyes, he would’ve never thought one could bring that much food as a daily lunch. The older male opened his flowery box and revealed what it seemed to be at least nine side dishes.

With a spoon in his left hand and chopsticks in his right, he glanced over at Youngjae questioningly. “You forgot yours?”

Youngjae was torn. As if an answer to such a simple question would pave the way for inappropriate future events. Perhaps he was over-thinking the amazingly small connection they seemed to have, but he really couldn’t help it.

This was Jung Daehyun, after all.

“You did, didn’t you?” The brown haired boy ran his tongue over his lips as what Youngjae could only describe as hesitancy overtook his expression. He looked between the table of food and Youngjae while wrinkles formed between his eyes in pensive consideration. “You can have some of mine,” he mumbled and handed over the chopsticks to Youngjae who unconsciously accepted them, keeping the spoon to himself. “But please, bring your own tomorrow. I really like you, but next time, I might cry.”

Jung Daehyun stuffed a mouthful and had barely started chewing before the toppled spoon made its way to his lips again.

And if Youngjae hadn’t been so taken aback by the other’s engrossed way of eating, he might, just might have found the sight before him somewhat endearing. Might have.

“Are you saying you like food more than me?” It surprised not only Daehyun but also himself. He was a thinker; he was so sure of it. And a thinker never spoke without thinking first.

Daehyun’s eyes turned big, round and beautiful and… no. Just no. He bit his lip and leaned closer to Youngjae who was fiddling the metal chopsticks in his hands, rather cautiously.

“Can I like food more on weekends?”

Youngjae could feel it. He could tell, even if it only lasted for a millisecond how the corners of his lips twitched. For the first time since Jung Daehyun decided to spring onto him without as much as a call or a warning he found the weirdness of the other rather easier to accept.

It was almost not too bad to have around.

‘1748… 1902… 2014…’

***

Youngjae believed his routine was of the simplest. Just like a choreography one could learn in 10 minutes, if not less. He got up each morning, fought with him to keep his eyes open and looked at the image of him parallel on the other side. Breakfast would sink down to his stomach if there were time for it and if his mother was insistent enough. He went to school, not particularly an obligation but if he didn’t go it would be over for him. He had no idea what it was but obediently went anyway. After school he’d either go home or to the library, cram school was also an option but only when he thought it was needed. He’d study until it turned so dark outside that the he’d only see himself the times he looked out the window. Well, him and the street lights. Then he’d go home, have dinner, study some more and then crawl under the covers of his bed when the time seemed appropriate.

Although he was already accepted into one of the finest universities of the country, Youngjae couldn’t break free from the concept of working harder than anyone else. His future was set, yet at the same time not. He knew where he was going but he wasn’t there yet, therefore rather keenly they all told him not to tear his eyes from the dream ahead of him, not even for a moment. Yes, they always reminded him of that. They were proud, but there was no doubt in the way they spoke that they could be prouder. It was a cycle, a routine he followed by the book.

Sometimes he’d make an attempt to shave, not because he had any facial hair, actually by the looks of it he doubted that he’d ever get a stub on his face, but because it was also part of a routine. He was turning into a man, and men shaved. It was as simple as that.

The day Jung Daehyun added following him to the library to his daily schedule was the day Youngjae realized the other boy was fully intent on flipping his life completely upside down. To break everything already drawn out for him.

Perhaps he should have seen it coming, after all, how hard was it to miss a person his height with striking features and an obnoxious loud voice?

Yet there he was again by the table he considered his, looking absentmindedly at his textbook and wondered if Daehyun was aware of what he was doing. Did he have any idea of what he was walking into?

Because Youngjae was certainly kept in the dark and if Daehyun didn’t know…

then who did?

There were some things in life that just couldn’t be undone, especially when it got too late or when you suddenly became too attached.

How do you stay within the grey then?

“What do you do aside from studying?” Daehyun asked and bent forward to rest with the side of his head against the fine mahogany table. He pursed his lips and let out a puff of air to blow the strands of hair away from his eyes. “What do you like to do in you free time?”

“Nothing.” Yongjae muttered and hoped it mark the end of the conversation.

“What do you like to do?” the older stubbornly repeated.

“Nothing I said, didn’t you hear me?” he replied breathily as he tiredly closed his eyes for a couple of seconds.

Daehyun pouted, “I did. But you have to admit it was a ty answer. So I’m asking you again: what do you—“

He slammed his book shut and earned a warning look from the librarian at the same time, but he couldn’t care less. “Jung Daehyun.” At least not at the moment.

The addressed boy shifted slightly and turned his head so that his other cheek pressed against the cool surface. “Geez, fine.”

He was upset. Obviously. And Youngjae once again found him in an unfavorable position. People have gotten upset with him before, but only when there was a mistake involved. This time though, how was he in the wrong this time?

His chest heaved as a sigh skipped in the air between them.

“There’s nothing, nothing I like,” he said, silently wondering why he hadn’t just let the topic go down the drains instead of feeling the need end it properly. “I only seem to do what I have to.”

What put him on guard was not how Daehyun so persistently tried to get to know him. There were moments he so easily became mesmerized by the eyes that were nothing like his own.

But what worried him was how it had struck him straight away that he was nothing like Jung Daehyun.

Impulsive and free.

Then what if— what if the flash of white indicted something more?

White, the color of innocence.

The part of grey that was never meant to show.

… the part of him never meant to be awakened.

What if it was the start of something he would never be able to control?

“Then let’s find out what you like.”

The rush of hot air against Youngjae’s skin made him flinch slightly. Daehyun had stopped pouting and snuck up on him at a point he was totally unaware of. And it all turned dangerous when he looked into Daehyun’s bright orbs and realized they were only inches apart.

His breathing heaved in warning.

“Why?”

“Because one of the things you like might turn out to be what you’ll want to hold onto for the rest of your life.” The older boy reasoned and much to Youngjae’s dismay did nothing to initiate a more appropriate distance between them.

Youngjae sighed, he wanted to look away, to escape from the big brown eyes staring right through at him. But at the same time, he didn’t want to be the one to retreat, at least not first. “I’m not worth your time.”

‘I already know what I’m meant to keep and treat with care.’

They passed between his parted lips, but instead of words voicing his troubled heart… they formed a breath of compressed silence.

‘There’s no point.’

Daehyun smiled softly and Youngjae had no choice but to admit the other was a handsome boy, actually very handsome. And he had no problem picturing the older boy being immensely popular, instantly charming everyone in sight.

Maybe it would have been like that if…

… if people remembered.

“It’s too late. I’ve already decided to give you all my time.”

Before he was able to make out what happened, chapped lips had brushed against Youngjae’s cheek. It was a faint touch, almost feathery and barely there. But it did happen, no matter how much Youngjae tried to convince himself that it hadn’t. The heat, the gradual expansion of blush making its way up his neck and face told that it obviously did.

Another color flashed before him.

“Youngjae-ah, I—“

He’d never know what Daehyun had been about to say. Or see the look on Daehyun’s face when he shoved his books into his back before dashing away. What he did know though, was the horrible sound of his chair screeching against the floor and the echoes of footsteps that never followed him.

Pink, the color of sweet nothings shouldn’t ever be meant for him.

***

The weather has its own routine. One that may seem incomprehensible for the clueless people, but appeared as a circle of perfect sense for the elements involved. On most days, the sun would shine too brightly, not particularly hot, but one would still have to put in some effort and self-discipline to bear with the unfavorable or favorable sun, depending how you looked at it.

And then it rained…

At some point it would have to rain. One never asked if it rained, it has always been a question of when it would. The rain was a part of nature, a phenomenon as sturdy as each and every thump of our heartbeats.

‘Do you know the most fascinating thing about rain?’

Youngjae could honestly say that he’d never thought about it, at least not until tonight. It made him uncomfortable to recall how Daehyun had appeared on their porch after just a couple of minutes after dinner time and how the older boy had grinned so widely at Youngjae who opened the door for him.

“Youngjae, I want to show you something!”

Youngjae stared dumbfounded at his classmate who had been absent for the last four days, who had simply vanished since the time at the library, but was now undoubtedly standing like his old self right before him.

The brown haired visitor jumped on his toes and flailed with his arms as he urged Youngjae to come with him.

Youngjae sighed when he eventually got over the initial shock. “Daehyun, I’m not going anywhere with you.” He retorted calmly, his hand still on the door handle. “Besides, it’s going to rain tonight, you should go home.”

The older boy had been gone for days and Youngjae had been in an indescribable state. At some point he had even gotten angry. He couldn’t say that he’d never noticed the other’s absence before, but not even once had he questioned it, never did he wrapped his mind around it like he’d done the last hundreds hours. This was not how it was supposed to be.

This was outside of his box.

… way outside of his borders.

He gave Daehyun a look which he hoped conveyed everything he needed in order to retreat undisturbed. But naturally, Daehyun wouldn’t have any of it. He dashed forward and clung to the edge of the door just as Youngjae was about to close it.

“That’s why you have to come with me!”

So before he knew it, he was clad in his track pants and a thin jacked over his t-shirt, shivering slightly in the humid air while looking incredulously at the person who had forced him out.

“Here?” he asked unbelievingly. “Are you kidding me? You wanted to show me the bus stop?”

Daehyun almost looked offended. “What’s wrong with that? I happen to be very, extremely, incredibly fond of this place.” He exclaimed and gestured wildly with his hand before he went to take a seat on the bench meant for people arriving minutes earlier than their busses.

He patted gently on the tiles of wood, gesturing for Youngjae who still lingered under the edge of the roof out of glass to sit by him.

‘What do you think?” Daehyun gestured with his hand over the sight before them when Youngjae finally gave in to his incredibly stubborn ways.

His eyes followed Daehyun’s hand to land on the shops and business of all kinds lined up after and above one another. What was he supposed to think of it? Aside from his usual dislike, what more could he feel about it? The city of Seoul was lit by up by thousands of signs, great displays attracting from every passerby with their glory.

A glory defined by the monsters…

“You dragged me all the way here to look at the sight I’ve been growing up with?” He leaned back and hit his head against the glass behind them. “If I wanted a tour in my hometown, I doubt I’d ever need you for it.” He said bitterly and let his eyes fall shut.

It was exhausting, he thought… to live where they were at.

“But you haven’t even looked at it.” Youngjae’s eyes remained closed but he could almost hear the pout on Daehyun’s lips. “Youngjae…”

Monsters spoke words of promises only to break them.

‘Did you know that despite being made of the same material and meant to shine with the same lights the signs still shone on different levels?’

Youngjae knew. And it has been a long time since he noticed it. He has after all, been studying them for so long. There were signs of cafés, beauty salons, massage parlors, dentists, barber shops and many many more.  Some were brought up to the sky simply because they were beautiful. Their grace were of welcomed lights, acceptable sort of. While some were made to stay hidden in the dark, their grace unseen by what has been deemed as shameful. Instead of being enlightened by the efforts of a hard working individual, they were basked in the shadows of those signs above.

Some people cleaned up other people’s messes. Some faked a smile and bowed their head low. And some worked until their nails bleed in the darkest of dark corners.

And Youngjae grew up being told not to become like them.

‘When you grow up you’ll have to become an important person, Youngjae-ah.’

It had confused him greatly as a child.

Fortunately, it hadn’t taken long for him to figure out that an important person was one standing above everyone else.

‘Become beautiful Youngjae.’

But what made a beautiful person?

He had been told a great of amount of things as part of the future and he remembered they told him about equality and everything pretty around it.

And he haven’t been able to forget the disappointment washing through him when he realized that’s what all they were…

… a bunch of pretty words.

It was ironic really, how people struggled to survive, to simply live only to be judged by life itself when they managed to do just that.

“There’s nothing for me to see.” He replied tiredly. Distantly he could make out the faint sound of the first awaited raindrop hitting the roof of the bus stop.  

Another drop splattered against the glass, followed by yet another. And then soon enough…

It rained.

Warm and slender fingers suddenly intertwined with his, giving him no choice but to open his eyes and meet the orbs that were staring right at him. “If you look again maybe you’ll see it.” Daehyun smiled softly and tightened his hold of Youngjae hand.

The younger could only stare back questioningly. But he didn’t pull back his hand. He let it stay.

He didn’t know why but he felt like he needed it.

And perhaps Daehyun needed it too.

Then when Daehyun tore his gaze away to let it settle on the image of Seoul before them again, Youngjae found himself distantly doing the same.

Maybe he wanted to give it another try before entirely giving up on it. Whatever it was. At least then he would have no reason to once again go along with the boy holding his hand so gently.

However, all he could see were the same shops, the same signs, the blurry passing people…

… the sense of disappointment

… the same failure

… the rain

and…

His heart skipped a beat.

And suddenly it was there.

The rain formed a curtain before his eyes and in each and every drop of water from above there was a hint of reflected light of different colors from the big broad signs.

They twinkled, they fell and they took his breath away.

The magnificent rain fell over the city and clung to any source of sparkle it could find. Uncovering every suppressed beauty by making them shine and enhanced every color by bringing them to their prime.

Like crystals every single letter and sign glistened in the dark…

and like what he thought had been a mere broken promise,

they all shone the same

“Pretty, isn’t it?” Daehyun smiled broadly as he brought their still enclosed hands closer to him.

It was.

It truly was.

Youngjae smiled faintly as his heart swelled in disbelief and in wonder.

they were all beautiful

Daehyun shifted so that their shoulders were touching, looking genuinely happy to see the smile gracing Youngjae’s lips. “If you want to, we can watch it again next time.”

The younger turned his head and momentarily tore his eyes from the mesmerizing image before to look at Daehyun. His throat turned dry when he realized that the other boy had meant what he said.

There was going to be a next time.

The weather has its own routine.

At some point it would have to rain, at some point they would all be beautiful.

And at that particular point…

… they would be friends with the monsters.

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Hi! I hope you have all been well ^^

It took quite a while to write this chapter, mostly due to me never being satisfied with it. I'm still not content but at the same time I don't really know how to change it.

Maybe I'll just revise the whole thing in the future. 

But I hope you still enjoyed it somehow :)

I've been meaning to ask: Is my spelling of 'grey' bothersome? I looked it up and apparently it's spelled 'gray' in America and I mostly use Amarican english (my Word automatically corrects it that way). In school we kind learn both ways, depending on the teacher, so I hope that if there's a mixture och Amarican and Brittish english you'd forgive me. I'll try to keep it to the minimum :)

Oh have you seen the poster for the fic? Even though it's amateurish I can't help but feel incredibly proud! :D

I never worked with photoshop before and hand to click and test every tool to reach the result hehe.

It's almost Christmas, so I wish you all thebest.

Merry Christmas! :D

Love, 

Ivy